


that old familiar tweet tweet tweet

by everybodyknowseverybodydies



Series: Tumblr drabbles [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/M, reporter!Quen and Canary!Di
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybodyknowseverybodydies/pseuds/everybodyknowseverybodydies
Summary: Whoever she was, she was fast.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> prompt: "DxQ reporter and vigilante AU"

Whoever she was, she was fast. Quentin was panting and there was a stitch in his side and he absolutely, definitely, for sure was slowing down, but the woman was still scaling the metal steps of the fire escape like she wasn’t wearing heels and they weren’t six floors up. “You can - slow down - anytime,” he gasped out, and he thought he saw her grin.

When he got to the top, she was perched over the door to the building’s interior stairs, looking at him with a self-satisfied smirk. “You’re new to this, aren’t you,” she said in a low, amused voice. It was less a question and more an expression of pity.

He scowled, still trying to catch his breath. “Am - not,” he huffed, then doubled over with his hands on his knees.

“What’s your name?”

Quentin looked up and found himself face to face with a pair of sharp blue eyes peering through the black mask. She leaned back with a snort-laugh when he jumped. “Lance,” he snapped, embarrassed. “Quentin Lance.”

“Nice to meet you, Lance.” She reached out and poked his forehead, that entertained glimmer never leaving her eyes. “Turn off the recorder; it looks new, and I don’t want to have to break it.”

“To break -?”

“I don’t do interviews.” She stood, leaping down and landing lightly beside him. He gulped.

“Do you do dinner? Off the record?”

Laughing again, she looked up at him, head tilted endearingly to the side. “I think this is the part where I say something dramatic like ‘justice never stops for dinner’ and disappear.”

“Oh.” Quentin kicked himself for sounding so disappointed and shoved his recorder back into his jacket pocket, crossing his arms. “I mean, uh, that’s, that’s stupid, you should… you should eat. Dinner. Sometime. Not with me. Unless you want to.”

She smiled, and this time the pity outweighed the amusement. “Oh, Lance. I really don’t do dinner.” Stepping back, she lifted her shoulders. “Why don’t you ask a nice girl who isn’t wearing a mask?” She was halfway across the roof when she tossed over her shoulder, “I hear there’s a girl at Drake’s Flowers who might be interested in a bumbling reporter who can’t hold onto his brand-new tape recorder.”

“Interested in a _what_ now?” he demanded, but she was already gone, the sound of her laughter still ringing in his ears. He hurried to check his pockets.

They were empty.


End file.
